The Clown Who Loved Me
by halfbloodprincess725
Summary: The Joker has fled Gotham and refused to take Harley with him. Now realizing what a sick, twisted, criminal he really is, and what he did to her, she turns to the one and only person who can and will help her: The Dark Knight. Caught between the boundaries of good and evil, Harley must come to terms with her past, and find a way to earn repentance.


_Hi! Here's my ~second~ Joker x Harley story…and I hope it's not the last :)_

 _This is an original idea, so I don't know if it's going to be a good story or not, we'll just have to see where it goes. Please leave feedback if you want to adjust anything, have comments/critiques, or just want to say hi! I hope you enjoy!_

 _ **Prologue: Suitcases and Cyanide**_

"Is this really a good idea boss?" Johnny Frost entered the workroom, making sure no one was following him. He anxiously kept turning his head and looking towards the ceiling, for fear there might be hidden microphones or disguised cameras.

"Of course it is," Joker scoffed, hunched over his blueprints. More and more often he would seek solitude in his planning room. More and more often he would ignore the constant nagging questions from Harley. She was a growing pain—four years with her was certainly a long time. The joy he felt in making Harley obey his every command was slowly slipping away. He needed something _more_ to fulfill his desires.

"Aren't you worried that she's gonna find out? What are you gonna do when she wakes up tomorrow and you're—"

"I don't want to think about it," Joker quickly interrupted, his pencil scratching furiously on his plans. He already had so much to think about and his mind was a constant pot of evil schemes, boiling and bubbling and threatening to spill at any moment. "Harley had four years to make a lasting impression and satisfy my requests. _Four. Years._ She was only useful two of them…if that." The room was quiet, the only sound was the scratching of pencil on paper. After crossing out a lengthy amount of text, Joker finally let his pencil rest on the table. "My decision is final," he thought a moment, "Now. Go and keep her busy. I don't need her barging in while I'm finalizing everything. She's ruined enough of my plans."

Johnny silent obliged and left the room, slowly shutting the door behind him. Once he was sure he was alone, Joker finally stood up and went to a nearby cabinet, where he pulled out a small traveling bag and five glass capsules with timers attached. He carefully set them on the counter; if they broke too early that could be the end of him. He opened the bag and made sure that all necessary items were accounted for: his favorite purple suit, his shoes, his acid spraying, flower, a small container of gunpowder, and a box of matches.

"For when I need to make a 'bang,'" Joker chuckled to himself.

. . . . . . . . .

Johnny Frost didn't find Harley until he heard a shrill yapping coming from the living room.

"There you are!" Harley Quinn exclaimed, tossing a ball into Johnny's unsuspecting hands. A second later, two large, furry hyenas came bounding into his arms, almost knocking him down. When the canines finally got calm, Johnny was covered in slobber and hair, and Harley was giving him a disapproving look. "I've been alone with these mutts all day…why can't anyone ever tell me what's going on around this place?" Her face puckered into a frown, and Johnny immediately felt sorry for her. If she didn't find out soon what Joker was planning, she might never get a chance to play with these dogs again. She noticed Johnny's reserved, lethargic look. "What? Did I say something? What's going on?" He shook his head, which only made her more impatient.

"Tell me!" She demanded, stomping her foot. She resembled a child and it made Johnny even more upset. In all reality, she was. Joker had twisted her mind and manipulated her to the point where she was no more self-aware than a five year old. If she was alone, Johnny feared that she wouldn't be able to cope with the world anymore. Although he was the right hand man to the biggest criminal in Gotham City, he still had morals, and what Joker was planning to do was in no way ethical.

"You can't—you have to listen to me, Harley." He gripped her shoulders firmly to let her know that he was being serious. She nodded slowly. "Joker…he's about to do something bad." He immediately realized how stupid that sounded. Of course Joker would do something bad; he had a bigger body count than half of Arkham Asylum combined.

"Oh, please," Harley threw her head back and laughed. "He's been doin' bad stuff since he was a kid. And I would know, he told me himself."

"That's not what I meant," Johnny was racking his brain to figure out how to get the words out. "He's going to do something bad to _you._ " This time, Harley just blinked.

"That can't be true. He's never done anyt—"

"Believe me, he has. You just haven't noticed. And he's going to do it again. I've seen the plans, I—I helped him create them," Johnny looked at the ground, nervous to see Harley's reaction.

"I don't understand," she looked like she was going to cry. Her usual smile fell, and her blue eyes seemed to darken. "I love Mr. J. And I thought he loved me." She quickly changed her mind. "NO! He does love me. You're—you're lying, Johnny." This time there were tears. "He wouldn't go to all that trouble to get me out of Arkham if he didn't care for me!"

"HARLEY," Johnny yelled. That was the first time he'd ever raised his voice at her, and she whimpered underneath his gaze. "I've _seen_ the plans, he made me memorize them. He has capsules of poison—cyanide—waiting to explode as soon as he leaves tomorrow morning. He's going to seal off this building and trap you inside of it. And I'm willing to bet any amount of money that you know what cyanide does."

"I'm sure I can convince him otherwise…" she suggested, but her voice sounded weak. Johnny shook his head, causing Harley to burst into tears. "What do I do?"

"I'll make sure you get out safe. I won't leave with Joker until I'm sure the bombs are rigged not to explode. I'll signal you somehow, and I promise you'll make it out alive." He searched her eyes for an answer, but they were glazed over and unresponsive. It took her a while, but she finally nodded.

"Okay." Harley wrapped her arms around Johnny's large torso in a hug and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for everything." Johnny returned her gesture with a smile and a wink, and set off back to Joker's lab.

. . . . . . . .

It was still nighttime when Harley woke up to the sound of rustling. She shifted in her bed, careful not to make a sound, for fear Joker would realize she was awake. In the faint light from the moon, she could see him in the corner of the room, picking up his suitcase and delicately moving what looked like small pipes.

 _There they are_. Harley thought, immediately recognizing the containers as the compartments that held the cyanide. She heard a low, raspy sound, no doubt the Joker's laugh. _Goodbye, Puddin'._ She bade him a farewell in her head and as he left the room, she let a tear slip down her cheek.

It wasn't long before Harley could make out a faint knocking sound. It was Johnny and his signal, alerting her that he and the Joker were about to leave and the timer on the cyanide bombs was starting any moment. She silently got dressed and tiptoed out of the room. It wasn't until she made her way down the main stairs that she realized this would be the last time she would enter this building. And she had no idea where she was going to go.

Not bothering to pack anything, Harley's only concern was making sure the hyenas were out of the building before the cyanide started permeating the air. She scratched each one behind their ears and gave them an emotional goodbye before taking care of herself. But as soon as she stepped back into the main room, she heard a POP! and instantly smelled a bitter smell.

"Oh, great," she whined. Hundreds of thoughts zoomed in her head: How she was going to survive, who she would live with, what would she eat, why would her Puddin' do this to her. Her main priority was getting out of the building alive. Her head was getting fuzzy and she felt her senses start to drain. Now she understood what it felt like when she used to inject "Joker Gas" into her victims: miserable, confusing, and above all, frightening. She wanted to curse Johnny for not being able to stop the gas explosion, but if it wasn't for him, she'd still be sleeping, and stay sleeping forever.

What was only a few feet seemed to be miles as her movements became sluggish and she became weak. Tears streamed down her face and she wondered what would've happened if she was never assigned to the Joker on her first day at Arkham. She'd probably still be conducting interviews, compiling research, and becoming one of Gotham's greatest psychiatrists. But it was too late to regret those things now.

Harley finally made it out of the front door, collapsing on the dirty ground below. She tried to get her breathing back to normal before making a strange gasping noise and blacking out.

. . . . . . .

 _Prologue complete._

 _I hope you are having as much fun reading this story as I'm having writing it…remember, comments and critiques are always welcome!_


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